Yep.
Did anyone see "King of the Hill" on Sunday? Great episode, in one subplot Dale believes he has taken a ride into the future, when really he has only taken a ride to the corner to buy beer with Khan's delinquent nephew in his tricked out Mitsubishi. Dale, believing he is now in the year 2045, the military time on the Mitsubishi's space-age console, is fearful that he might run into the 2045 version of himself and wreak havoc on the space time continuum, you know, that old chestnut. So, Dale goes out of his way to only participate in activities where he is sure he will not run into himself: Spelunking, rock climbing, going to life guarding school, etc.
Not long ago I started randomly calling casual male acquaintances and asking them to join me in various innocuous activities. A trip to Costco to sign up for memberships. Volunteering to walk dogs at the local shelter. Walking through Central Park to press leaves for our significant others. Playing Bingo at an old age home. Hanging out at one of those paint your own pottery cafes. Basically any activity that struck me as harmless, inoffensive, innocent, safe, or mild. Innocuous to the point of absurdity. This amused me to no end! It struck me as hysterically funny. There was something undeniably creepy and lascivious about asking these men, all of whom are friends with my husband and most of whom are in committed relationships, to join me for a walk in the park to press leaves. It was such an awkward and ridiculous request that the discomfort of the invitee could be felt through the phone, even before they began to stutter through their polite turning down of my invitation. One immediately called bullshit, but I was so earnest in tone that he eventually began to half believe me. No one took me up on my offers, but if they had, I had fully intended to carry the joke until the bitter end. Oh, look at that lovely maple leaf, grab that one, its colors are so lovely, it will press nicely! No one thought it was nearly as funny as I did, but that didn't bother me much.
Months later, I began to review the activities I had picked out. At the time they seemed utterly absurd, things I would never do. When I looked at them again, they seemed just as absurd, maybe even more so. Then I thought it would amuse me to go ahead and see if I could actually do these things, the ones that seemed worthwhile at least. Why not walk dogs, why not play Bingo with lonely seniors? When did I become the sort of person to whom participation in such activities seemed absurd? At the time I wasn't making these connections, I just knew that out of nowhere I was struck with an overwhelming need to go out and be in all the places where I was unlikely to run into myself.
Since then I've tried, on a very small scale, to do as many things that seem out of character as possible. Over the weekend I entered a mac n' cheese cook-off, which for me, if you know me, seems ridiculous. I spent the afternoon gathering my ingredients and cooking, and by 7:45 p.m. I was standing in front of the venue, warm casserole dish in hand. I was alone, but standing idly by and people-watching does not strike me as nearly as awkward or uncomfortable as it did when I was younger. Going out alone has many benefits. I did, nevertheless, consume three beers in the first twenty minutes, because having a drink in hand at all times is of the utmost social importance when you are standing in a large group of unfamiliar faces.
Eventually I was taken up by/I glommed on to a group of folks, friends of a friend, and I spent the rest of the cook-off crushing hard on an adorable dude. My flirting skills are tame and my tools of seduction dull, so I'm pretty sure I escaped with my dignity intact, despite my fourth beer. I followed the group to a bar near my apartment and cornered two other poor dudes, and beers five and six ensured that I retained very little dignity. Unbeknownst to me, my husband had arrived at the bar (I had invited him to meet me, but I didn't think he'd make it) and he was playing a video game not five feet away from me while I drunkenly shouted nonsense at the two men. Thus, he bore witness to them ditching me when I excused myself to get a drink, and was able to show up at just the right moment, thus making me feel less like a drunken crazy lady. He says I fared okay with the two fellas and I wasn't nearly the spectacle I recall, but he loves me so what does he know.
It was pouring rain outside and he and I ran across the street to another bar with an awning and outside tables. Although the awning offered plenty of coverage against the rain, all the other patrons had retreated inside and could be seen fogging up the glass and crowding around the muggy bar. Geoff got us drinks and we sat alone outside and watched the rain fall, and it was so lovely and ideal. I could see the people who I had arrived with coming and going from the bar across the street, and I thought about heading back to thank the girl who had invited me to join them, but in the end I stayed. It was nice watching them from afar, it was time to spend the rest of the evening in my comfort zone, happy and content.
As for my goal to only go places where I'm unlikely to run into myself, I find that those places are less and less easy to find, elusive locations in a crowded world. I might just be anywhere. Why not. Think on that, Dale Gribble.
Not long ago I started randomly calling casual male acquaintances and asking them to join me in various innocuous activities. A trip to Costco to sign up for memberships. Volunteering to walk dogs at the local shelter. Walking through Central Park to press leaves for our significant others. Playing Bingo at an old age home. Hanging out at one of those paint your own pottery cafes. Basically any activity that struck me as harmless, inoffensive, innocent, safe, or mild. Innocuous to the point of absurdity. This amused me to no end! It struck me as hysterically funny. There was something undeniably creepy and lascivious about asking these men, all of whom are friends with my husband and most of whom are in committed relationships, to join me for a walk in the park to press leaves. It was such an awkward and ridiculous request that the discomfort of the invitee could be felt through the phone, even before they began to stutter through their polite turning down of my invitation. One immediately called bullshit, but I was so earnest in tone that he eventually began to half believe me. No one took me up on my offers, but if they had, I had fully intended to carry the joke until the bitter end. Oh, look at that lovely maple leaf, grab that one, its colors are so lovely, it will press nicely! No one thought it was nearly as funny as I did, but that didn't bother me much.
Months later, I began to review the activities I had picked out. At the time they seemed utterly absurd, things I would never do. When I looked at them again, they seemed just as absurd, maybe even more so. Then I thought it would amuse me to go ahead and see if I could actually do these things, the ones that seemed worthwhile at least. Why not walk dogs, why not play Bingo with lonely seniors? When did I become the sort of person to whom participation in such activities seemed absurd? At the time I wasn't making these connections, I just knew that out of nowhere I was struck with an overwhelming need to go out and be in all the places where I was unlikely to run into myself.
Since then I've tried, on a very small scale, to do as many things that seem out of character as possible. Over the weekend I entered a mac n' cheese cook-off, which for me, if you know me, seems ridiculous. I spent the afternoon gathering my ingredients and cooking, and by 7:45 p.m. I was standing in front of the venue, warm casserole dish in hand. I was alone, but standing idly by and people-watching does not strike me as nearly as awkward or uncomfortable as it did when I was younger. Going out alone has many benefits. I did, nevertheless, consume three beers in the first twenty minutes, because having a drink in hand at all times is of the utmost social importance when you are standing in a large group of unfamiliar faces.
Eventually I was taken up by/I glommed on to a group of folks, friends of a friend, and I spent the rest of the cook-off crushing hard on an adorable dude. My flirting skills are tame and my tools of seduction dull, so I'm pretty sure I escaped with my dignity intact, despite my fourth beer. I followed the group to a bar near my apartment and cornered two other poor dudes, and beers five and six ensured that I retained very little dignity. Unbeknownst to me, my husband had arrived at the bar (I had invited him to meet me, but I didn't think he'd make it) and he was playing a video game not five feet away from me while I drunkenly shouted nonsense at the two men. Thus, he bore witness to them ditching me when I excused myself to get a drink, and was able to show up at just the right moment, thus making me feel less like a drunken crazy lady. He says I fared okay with the two fellas and I wasn't nearly the spectacle I recall, but he loves me so what does he know.
It was pouring rain outside and he and I ran across the street to another bar with an awning and outside tables. Although the awning offered plenty of coverage against the rain, all the other patrons had retreated inside and could be seen fogging up the glass and crowding around the muggy bar. Geoff got us drinks and we sat alone outside and watched the rain fall, and it was so lovely and ideal. I could see the people who I had arrived with coming and going from the bar across the street, and I thought about heading back to thank the girl who had invited me to join them, but in the end I stayed. It was nice watching them from afar, it was time to spend the rest of the evening in my comfort zone, happy and content.
As for my goal to only go places where I'm unlikely to run into myself, I find that those places are less and less easy to find, elusive locations in a crowded world. I might just be anywhere. Why not. Think on that, Dale Gribble.